If These Walls Could Talk
by IWriteWhenBored
Summary: Ever wonder how the boys ever got into the mess they were in now? Why they're throwing their lives out onto the battlefield? Well if these fortress walls could talk they'd have stories to tell.
1. The Soldier

If These Walls Could Talk

Chapter 1: The Solider

"Boom! Aha, gotcha!" shouted John as he jumped from his hiding place. He and his brothers were reenacting another battle from World War I and he had won again. His brother looked slightly affronted as he turned around, nimbly moving the fake rifle from his face. "How did you manage to get up in the rafters of the porch?"

John chuckled as he lowered his weapon, "Easy private. If you study the teachings of Sun Tzu anything is possible!"

A loud groan drifted from the left as the youngest of the three came out from behind the garbage can. "Not Sun Tzu again John."

"Don't you underestimate Sun Tzu's _Art of War_, private!" John barked at Sam, "He was a military genius! The Michelangelo of battle tactics, the Leonardo of combat, the-"

"Yes, we've heard this before John," sighed Wallace as he pressed his forefingers to the bridge of his forehead. Before John could launch into another rant of his siblings "undermining his authority" the Jones boys' mother stepped out onto the porch to announce dinner was ready. The boys raced each other inside and ended up shoving each other through the back door into the dining area. The Jones were a modest family, their father was a World War I veteran who now worked as a local farmhand in Elko while the mother was the ideal American homemaker. "Now boys before you eat you should go and wash up. You've been playing outside in the yard all day and are tracking dirt all into the kitchen!" ordered Mrs. Jones.

The boys ran upstairs, the previous games having not tired them out at all. They bounded past the photos of the Jones family, smiling and lining the walls and rounded the corner to the small, sparse bathroom. John got to the bathroom first and promptly slammed and locked the door in his brothers' faces. Several thuds fell against the door as Sam and Wallace collided against it. "Ow! John! Open up we have to wash up too!" shouted Sam as he rapped hardly on the white wood.

John once again chuckled and answered, "After I'm done you can have your turn! I get to go first 'cus I just whooped your asses in battle!"

"Hey! Open up now or I'm telling Mom you cussed again!" warned Wallace.

"Okay, okay fine! Jeez!" settled John as he unlocked the door.

The brothers walked in and all three were huddled around the sink washing their hands vigorously, particularly John who had dust and dirt from his hands to elbows. "Hey you think Dad will tell us another story about his days in the war?" John asked his brothers, a twinkle in his blue eyes as he washed the soapy lather from his hands.

"He might," said Wallace as he turned from the sink reaching for a towel "After all he knows how much you _love_ those stories John."

"Yeah! Maybe he'll tell the one about how he and his company had to brave the trenches and run across the field to take down the enemies' defenses!" replied John excitedly. To say the John was proud of his Dad's accomplishments in the war was an understatement, John _idolized_ his father. He wanted to be just like his Dad, an American hero in his own right. He wanted to serve his country, win a war and come back with several stories to tell! John lowered his eyes and stared at the running water rushing over his hands. "These hands will never get to wield a weapon," thought John sadly. "The war's over and I never got to fight it."

Sam looked over at John and noticed John clutching his fists under the tap, lost in thought and staring at the water. "Hey John are you alright?" Sam asked as he shook John's shoulder lightly.

"Huh, what? Oh yeah, yeah I'm fine." John looked up at his brother smiling.

Mrs. Jones's voice rose from the kitchen, "Boys the food is getting cold!"

"Come on privates! Last one in here locks the door!" John cheered as he rushed out the bathroom; just another summer day with the Jones.

* * *

><p>John's ears rang as another grenade whizzed passed his head and over the rock formation he and his brothers were sheltered behind. The grenade exploded into what seemed to be a million fragments and sounds of both comrades and enemies carried from behind as they were hit by the collateral damage. Despite the cold water soaking his socks through his boots and the threat of death looming around every corner, John could never have been happier. His heart pounded in his chest and his blood hummed with adrenaline; he belonged here.<p>

"Oh god! We're going to die!" cried Sam over the gunfire and shouts. He buried his face in his hands as if to forget the gray sky and sounds of crunching sand as reinforcements landed on the beach.

"Get a hold of yourself private!" shouted Lt. John Jones as he roughly shoved his brother up and pointed at his gun. "Keep your eyes on the field son! You'll be making use of that real soon!"

"You can't be serious John! This is a suicide mission we've been sent on! We're outnumbered by the enemy ranks!" bellowed Wallace. The gunfire was deafening now and the yells grew in number.

"Listen, we have our orders! We have to go in and capture Oberleutnant Shultz before he tries to escape the battle!" barked John.

"We don't even know where he is! He could be anywhere John!" countered Wallace.

It was true the Oberleutnant could be anywhere amongst the chaos. Lt. John and what was left of his company had gotten nowhere near close to the enemy's camp in order to scout out Shultz before the reinforcements arrived. Now they had lost their element of surprise and with only three men left briefed on the mission of capturing Shultz before the cavalry arrived, things were looking bleak for the Jones boys. The gunfire was dying down and was now distant as the Americans advanced on the retreating German army. John peeked out from behind the rock formation and glared, "Dammit we're losing time!"

"He might be already dead." said Sam as he lifted his helmet to relieve the heat from his head. The sweat rolled down in rivulets from his temples to his collarbone and Sam never felt more scared in his life. John glared at him and stated calmly, "Alright boys enough chatting. We're moving in with the others and as soon as we see sight of the Oberleutnant we shoot on sight understand?"

"Shoot on sight? John that wasn't our order-" started Wallace. John roughly interjected, "The damn with our orders! That man does not deserve the right to be breathing in MY world."

Wallace just stared hard at John's face. He was seriously considering going against a direct order from the Major? Oh yes, John was very serious Wallace could tell. He had that fire in his eyes, the same fire the Wallace saw whenever John pointed that wooden rifle at his face or when trained on the targets at boot camp. There was no stopping John now and the younger Jones brothers knew it. "We'll follow you Lieutenant, sir" leveled Wallace and Sam merely  
>nodded in agreement. John smiled at his best soldiers and bellowed, "Today is a good day!"<p>

* * *

><p>By dumb luck or skill unknown the Jones boys, they had managed to sneak by enemy lines and into the camp. The American reinforcements had not yet made it to the camp and John smiled on his good fortune, "Looks like hope still shines upon us yet boys."<p>

"Yeah and I'm exhausted." Sam groaned. However, even as his muscles ached Sam still managed a wide grin at his older brother as John smiled back and growled, "Take your lumps like a man, Private Twinkletoes." Sam could not help the laugh that broke out from his weary throat at his old nickname from back when they still were playing pretend.

"Hey keep it down you idiots? You trying to get us caught?" exclaimed Wallace in a hushed tone.

"Sorry sweetheart." John teased as he came up beside his brother. They were currently shielded from enemy eyes in the thicket of the surrounding forest that neighbored the beach.

"They're pretty clever for setting up here in the forest. They would have been torn apart had they set up near the beach," acknowledged Wallace as he peered carefully behind the tree.

John scoffed, "More like they're running scared."

"How are we going to do this? If that's the Oberleutnant's tent it's going to be hard infiltrating it. The whole tent is surrounded by men," declared Wallace as he counted off the men in his head.

John chuckled and laid a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder, "Ever the cautious one Wally?"

"Someone has to make sure your ass doesn't get killed," Wallace smirked back at his brother who chuckled lowly again.

"We'll wait until nightfall and sneak into the Oberleutnant's tent while the most of the men are sleeping. We'll strike then and shoot him even before most of the men realize what's happened," declared John.

"Wow John I never knew you were capable of actual strategy and planning" teased Sam as he sat on the ground, waiting for night to fall.

"You think I got this strap as a gift private?" commented John as he playfully punched his brother in the arm. He settled down next to Sam as the boys waited for the moon to rise.

It was nightfall and the Joneses slipped their way by the sleeping men and hid behind tents to avoid guards on watch. "Damn they're not making this easy," huffed Wallace as he and his brothers hid behind another tent. That time they narrowly missed the patrolling guard that stalked in front of the cream colored fabric.

"War wouldn't be fun if it was easy," smiled John. Blood thundered in his ears and his heart started to race again. The thrill of the upcoming battle made his body shudder in anticipation.

"Who said war was fun?" asked Sam puzzled and slightly disturbed by his brother's revelation.

"Come on let's move, the guard is turned away!" urged Wallace as the boys shuffled across the camp ground as quickly and quietly as possible. They finally arrived behind the intended tent and Wallace turned to John and seriously stated, "Okay John it's your call now. We can still back out if you want, the reinforcements are due to arrive at anytime and we could simply just-"

"Like hell I will!" grunted John as he stared hard at Wallace, "A true solider never backs down from a battle! Sun Tzu never backed down from a fight and I'll be damned if I do to!"

"Yeah but you're not Sun Tzu John-"

"Enough chatting! In case you forgot private we're still in the middle of enemy territory and I'm still you're superior officer. You agreed to this," John said; he stood his ground firmly staring back into his brother's eyes searching for an answer.

Wallace nodded and Sam repeated their oath, "We're in this together John."

"Then let's go kick some ass!" growled John as he and his brothers entered the tent from behind. Unsurprisingly, the Oberleutnant was awake and in fact was sitting on a simple wooden chair facing right at them. "Guten abend boys," Shultz greeted.

"Zusätzlich," John ground out in the little, rough German he knew.

"So vhat brings you boys out here on such a momentous occasion?" Shultz continued as he smiled warmly at the Jones boys.

"Momentous occasion?" Sam inquired from behind John. He took as step closer towards Shultz. The Oberleutnant merely smiled and said, "Vhy yes. The Americans already seem to think they have von this war."

"You bet your ass!" John growled as he pointed his pistol right at Shultz's head, "You're just a maggot in the way."

"Ah ever the cowboy Lieutenant." Shultz smirked, "You may vant to lower your weapon or I'm afraid I von't lower mein." Audible gun cocking suddenly filled the tent as rifles trained on the Jones boys' heads. Four men suddenly stalked into the tent, their eyes and guns fixed only on John and his brothers. "Surely you could not have thought this to be that simple?" stated Shultz.

"No but war is never as simple as it looks," answered John. Wallace glanced around the tent nervously.

"John we should just lower our weapons and surrender. We may be able to make it out alive if we just sit tight wait for reinforcements to arrive," Wallace muttered beneath his breathe so only John could hear. Sam gulped but still stood his ground, erect and proud next to John.

"Vell Lieutenant my patience grows thin," Shultz declared his face now cold and hard. Shultz's men grew closer to the Joneses. John smiled and cocked his pistol, "Auf Wiedersehen."

The gunshots rang loud in the camp.

* * *

><p>"Honored? HONORED? YOU'RE LUCKY IF I DON'T HAVE YOU ARRESTED LIEUTENANT!" John winced as Major Adam's voice rang through the tiny office.<p>

"What we did was bravery, sir! Due to us killing Oberleutnant Shultz there was little resistance from the remaining men!" countered John just as loud.

"Yes and we also lost valuable information that will now die with the Oberleutnant! You also proceeded to put your men in danger! Hell I even lost a good solider out in that camp!"

John stopped mid-shout, no sound came from his mouth. He shut his mouth and looked behind him. Wallace looked up at him and both men stared at the vast empty space in the room.

"Yes," John turned back to the Major. "Sam was a damn good soldier. I regret that the most about my actions that night."

"As you should Lieutenant!" Major Adams sighed as he sat back down in his chair defeated. He looked at both men, sighed again and said "Listen don't you understand I'm protecting you boys right now? I have every right to have you arrested for disobeying a direct order and simultaneously betraying your country! Hell the higher ups at the Pentagon would love a scapegoat for this travesty! However, I know you boys and even though we needed that information I also know Shultz was a bastard. That's why I am going to have you both dishonorably discharged."

"WHAT? You can't do this to us Major we're heroes goddammit!" John bellowed. Wallace stepped in as he hobbled on his crutches.

"Sir, we accept these discharges and will relief ourselves of duty."

"The hell we do Wally! After all we have done for this country! After all we have been through! Think about us Wally, think about Sam!"

"I think about him every night John." Wallace stared deep into John's blue eyes. Wallace's own hazel ones have lost their sheen after all he had seen during the war. He looked tired and worn, a boy forced to grow up too fast on the battlefield. John just stared back and realized that Wallace was hurt.

"John?" The Major looked at John and John stared back. The air was thick and the tension between the men in the room was high. John merely stated clearly with no emotion, "I accept the discharge, sir. I will relief myself of duty." Both brothers left the room, John helped Wallace walk as he hobbled through the hallways. All the secretaries stared at them; the argument could be heard throughout the whole floor and it was no secret what had happened that night at Schultz's camp. News spread like wildfire of Lt. John Jones's crazed attempt at assassinating Shultz and inadvertently leading to Private Sam Jones's death. Wallace pressed the elevator button for down. The ride down the elevator shaft was silent between the men. Finally when it was too heavy for John's taste he said, "So, this is how it ends?"

"Afraid so." Wallace answered

"It's nothing like what I dreamed it would be."

"And what exactly did you dream war would be like?" Wallace countered, glaring at John. John sighed and said, "Like Dad's old stories."

"Oh please John those were fables that Dad made up to cope with the war. War is an ugly, horrible and unbelievable nightmare and personally I am glad to be done with it."

The silence fell again as the elevator doors opened. Both men walked out, John still helped Wallace down the stone steps of the military headquarters. The sun was shining and promise of Spring shifted in the air. People walked to and from as they tended to their own business, oblivious to the two soldiers standing erect in front of the old stone steps. "Well I'm going to go back home," announced Wallace.

"To Nevada?"

"Yeah. Mom's all alone out there and while I may be injured now as soon as I get better I'll take care of her and me. Besides I could use some peace and quiet." Wallace sighed as he looked around at the bustling city.

"I'm going to stay here in Chicago," declared John.

"Work?"

"I'll find something."

"House?"

"I got a friend here in the city that's willing to room with me for a few months."

"You're lying John."

"Yeah but it's a nice thought right?" John smiled at his brother. Wallace managed a small grin and said, "Good luck Lieutenant." John smiled and helped Wallace hail down a cab. "Remember John I'll always be around to help you."

As the cab veered off Wallace peered back through the rear window and saluted. John brought himself full height and saluted back. Wallace was gone and John was left alone on the street corner, people shuffling past him as he stood lost in thought.

"Lieutenant John Jones?" a rough voice inquired behind him. John turned to see the most peculiar woman he had ever laid eyes on. Dressed in a light purple coat and wearing dark sunglasses was a woman nearing late 50s with prominent gray streaks in her hair, staring right at John. She took another drag from her cigarette and tapped the ash gathering at the tip. John watched fascinated as the ash crumbled and disappeared into the gray of the street. "Well are you or are you not Lieutenant John Jones? Son to Thomas and Sarah Jones and born in Elko, Nevada?"

John was now suddenly alarmed. "Who the hell are you and how do you know all that?"

The woman nearly smirked and continued, "We know a lot about you John. We've always been watching." She blew smoke that willowed and spun in the light Spring air.

John continued to stare at this woman and then repeated, "Who the hell are you?"

"Take a seat John." A driver suddenly got out of the car beside her and opened the back door for them. John continued to stand stock still, as if frozen to the very street corner. People still rushed by them never taking notice of the woman or the jet black car beside her. "Well John?"

John finally felt the numbness leave his legs and moved forward to the car. He got into the back seat and the woman followed. The driver shut the door and climbed into the driver seat. The car hummed as it sprung to life and they were off. John had no idea where they were going as the windows were heavily tinted and only allowed little light to filter through.

"So am I going to get an answer to my question?" John asked.

"Yes and no." The woman answered as she took a drag from her cigarette. The little orange light illuminated her face in the darkness and gave it an ominous yet mysterious glow. She blew the smoke into the space and the car immediately smelled of heady cigarette smoke and expensive leather. "I am representing my client in this meeting, Lieutenant. My identity is unimportant in the matter."

"Okay then what does your benefactor want with me?" inquired John, now impatient by the avoidance of his questions. He needed the truth, he could not trust this woman. Something was off about this whole meeting he just could not place it at the moment.

"Excellent question Lieutenant. That is what you'll be proving in this upcoming game we have planned."

"Game?" John did not like where this was going.

"Yes. You see Lieutenant, we are in a war. This is not the about the war you just fought or in fact, a war anyone knows about. It is a private war, a business transaction between two rival companies. However while most companies play corporate wars with lawyers and cheap tactics, we play ours with more _convincing_ strategies."

"I'm lost here lady." John admitted. The woman smirked and simply said, "What my benefactor wants Lieutenant is for you to prove you can _win_. You see our team needs a strong man, a man who does not cower from battle; an experienced warrior who understands the art of war and can successfully lead them on missions against our competitors. Simply put Lieutenant, we need a _soldier_."

John stared at the woman for a moment. He folded his hands and brought them to his lips, deep in thought. After some time as said, "You want me to fight a mercenary's war?" The woman grinned.

"Not just any mercenary's war John. The _best_ mercenary's war. Our competitor has spared no expense in hiring the best mercenaries in the world to fight this war and we share that sentiment."

"So you've recruited more than just me in this?" John asked.

"Well of course Lieutenant. You'll be leading a team to fight this war."

John thought long about what this woman was asking of him. Had she not realized what he just went through? He already failed one team and now she expects him to lead another? The irony of the situation seemed to mock John. He sat in silence as his thoughts were rampant with different emotions of confusion, doubt and guilt. The woman finally put out her cigarette and airily stated, "The expense for your brother's funeral must have cost your family a fortune."

John sharply looked up as he was yanked from his thoughts by her sudden and blunt statement. The woman merely continued ignoring his hard stare, "I mean after all how can you and your brother hope to take care of things at home with your menial pension as a soldier. Sad to say but this country does little for its boys at arms once they return home."

John stared long and hard as the woman stared back at him arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing upon her painted lips. "How much am I getting payed to do this?" John finally asked. The woman smirked and stated, "More then what you could have ever dreamed of Lieutenant." John was silent and the car finally came to a complete halt. "Well Lieutenant my time is short and I'm afraid I will need you to make your decision now."

What had John to lose? A chance to redeem his honor on a battlefield was now presented to him as well as taking care of his broken family. He looked up at the woman and in a leveled voice declared, "Where do I sign up?"

"No need Lieutenant. You see, we've already prepared everything. In fact we're here." The woman turned as the back door was opened for them. The sharp light from the sun momentarily blinded John as he protected his sensitive eyes with his hands. The woman climbed out the car and John followed. It was not long before the sounds of battle could be heard from distance. "You can see better from here Lieutenant," the woman called as she beckoned John to her side. As soon as he stood next to her John could make out what seemed to be a gated area. Bombs were blowing debris high into the air and gunfire could be heard even from the hill John and the woman were on. "Welcome to 2fort Lieutenant. It is one of the designated areas the government has agreed to give us so we can conduct this war in extreme secrecy." Indeed as John soon realized 2fort was in the middle of nowhere. The area was surrounded by flat grass land and dirt and seemed to be made up of two abandoned warehouses and a wide sewer area running between them. John turned to the woman and remarked, "I thought you said no one knows about this war."

"Yes that is true John. No one does know about this war."

"You just said the government was in on it though."

"Oh well yes of course we have a few placed officials in office to ensure secrecy. Not to worry though not even the President knows about what's happening. Ah, I'm afraid I've revealed too much now. I am getting a bit ahead of myself. So let me just brief you fast before my assistant takes over. You see I'm a very busy woman and while unfortunate, I cannot give you the grand tour of your new home myself. So, you will refer to me for now on as the Announcer. I am the mediator of both companies and review the battles on a purely neutral basis. For this operation you will be now known as Jane Doe. Your previous life does not matter, all that matters is here and now. You also do not exist in any records anywhere and you were killed in action on D-Day. You may communicate with your family but reveal nothing about what is going on here. Any attempts at leaking information will be censored and if repeated severely punished. Have I made myself clear?"

John stood agape in front of the Announcer. His name was now Jane Doe, a ghost name used to identify dead bodies of soldiers that were so mangled they could not be properly identified. He also did not exist it any record, meaning he was never born, never went to school and never served in the war. It was literally a brand new slate for him starting here atop of the hill. "Mr. Doe?" the Announcer quipped, clearly annoyed by John spacing out.

"Yes ma'm." Jane answered, a new man.

"Good. Do not fail us Mr. Doe. We'll keep in touch." With that the woman entered the car and disappeared on the highway. Jane looked to his new home called 2fort. He smiled and said to himself aloud, "Today is a good day."


	2. The Scout

If These Walls Could Talk

Chapter 2: The Scout

"CAR!" bellowed the pitcher as the kids scattered off the street. The car sped past them while the driver bellowed from the driver's seat, "You crazy kids should play off the middle of the street!"

"Aw says you Grandpa!" yelled one of the kids as the car continued past the kids down the street. It was a crisp Fall afternoon and the DeAngelo brothers were playing an intense game of America's favorite pastime, stickball. The boys repositioned themselves and the batter reassumed his stance on home plate. He stared intently at the pitcher, ignoring the jeers from his other brothers. "Here batta batta batta! Here batta batta batta! Here batta batta swing!" jeered Frankie as Joseph remained passive, still holding his concentration.

"We want a pitcher not a belly itcher!" joined Tony as Rickie reared back for his pitch. Rickie lifted his leg and arm high across his stocky frame and threw the ball as hard as he could to Joseph. Joseph tensed and reared his arms back until . . .

THWACK! The ball was hit with such force that it soared past the boys and way down the street. Joseph smiled and gracefully dropped the stick as he proceeded to do his victory lap around his brothers. It was a home run and the rest of the boys just glared at Joseph as he continued to rush around the plates. "Damn Joey couldn't you at least made it a double! Now the ball is freakin' lost! That's the third one today! Now we got no more to play with!" groaned Rickie. The other brothers started to close in on Joseph as he stopped at home plate, the grin on his face suddenly gone. He knew what was coming. They were planning to wail on him. "Now hey fellas, dontcha think it's a bit unfair to have six on one little guy?" Joseph said as he tried to reason with his brothers. They neared closer and Joseph could feel the anger radiating off their bodies. He understood what he had to do and prepared himself. He bent his knees slightly and titled his body back. He placed one foot behind the other and secured his precious gray cap atop his head. "Not this time Joey. You're going to pay this time." Vinnie growled as he pounded his fist into his palm.

"Well you know the rules now fellas," started Joseph as he veered back. "You'll have to catch me first!" With that said, Joseph broke into a run. The others boys chased him yelling and cursing as they went. Joseph ran as fast as he could, bounding past the broken down brownstones and cobbled streets. He rushed past the grocer and butcher and ignored the local Pharmacist as he called out after him. He ran until everything around him seemed to mesh into one big, colorful blur. His heart pounded in his ears and threatened to burst from his chest but he continued to run until finally his legs gave out. He collapsed on a nearby bench and panted harshly. He took a quick survey around him. He was at the bus stop for going Uptown and many blocks away from where his brothers were at. He let out a sigh of relief as he continued to catch his breath. The old woman besides him gave him a quizzical look but ignored him and continued to wait for her bus.

When Joseph finally relaxed he looked up at the sky and sighed. It was nearing sundown and "Ma" would be angry with him if he was late again. He looked at the shifting colors of deep orange and saturated red as the sun was dying slowly in the horizon. Boston had the most beautiful sunsets and it was one of the features that Joseph was proud of being a natural bred Bostontinian. He let out a heavy sigh, his eyes shielded by his gray cap. He did not want to return home to face his brothers. They were seething with anger about now and itching for a chance at revenge and there was no room the run or hide in their small, cramped apartment. "I don't want to be here. I want to just be able to run and play baseball whenever I want; to hit as many home runs and not get beat up for it." Joseph though mournfully. However he had to get home as from the corner of his eye he noticed a cop watching him. Again Joseph sighed and got up; he started to walk home taking his time. For once in his life, Joseph was in no rush.

* * *

><p>"Joseph Francis DeAngelo where the hell have you been!" yelled his mother as soon as he entered the house. He placed his key in the bowl next to the door and answered, "Sorry Ma, I just went for a walk."<p>

"A walk? At this hour? Well I'll have you know that I got a call from Mr. Ford and he told me you were running down Hanover St. as if the devil himself was chasing you!" commented Ms. DeAngelo as she placed both hands sternly on her hips. Joseph looked sorrowfully to the ground to block out his mother's accusing stare. Ms. DeAngelo sighed and placed her fingertips gingerly to her forehead and sighed, "Oh Joey I dunno what I'm going to do whicha."

"I'm sorry Ma. It won't happen again," Joseph attempted to reconcile with his mother. She looked up at him and said steadily, "The hell it won't young man! Form here on in your grounded!"

"What? But Ma-" started Joseph but his mother just raised her hand to stop him. He knew there was no reasoning with her this time, she was really pissed off. He just glared at her and shoved past her to his shared room. "Excuse me Joey we're not done here!" bellowed Ms. De Angelo.

"Yeah well I'm done! Done with everything!" countered Joseph as he shut the door behind him. He stood there seething and looked at the nightstand he and his brothers shared. On his side there was a lone picture framed in a simple wooden case. A strong young man stood smiling as in his left hand he held up a small toddler you was gleefully laughing, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. On his right hand was a pitcher's glove holding a baseball; a gray cap was fitted over the young man's eyes but the same cheerful blue eyes peeked beneath the soft cap. Joseph stared at the picture of him and his Dad; he remembered that day clearly. It was during the summer and his Dad had finally convinced his wife to allow him to bring their youngest son along. Joseph had only been a toddler but he still remembers that perfect day, just him, his Dad and his Dad's friends as they sat and watched the game.

Joseph felt bitter tears sting the corner of his eyes and he roughly kicked the nightstand. The lamp wobbled and the picture fell to the floor. Joseph then angrily stomped to his bunk beneath his brother's and sat heavily on the mattress. He sat and cried silently for a long time, occasionally little sobs and hiccups issued from his throat but he still kept the noise in. After all he could not let his brothers know he was crying, they'd never let him live it down. Joseph was tired after crying and sat back on his bed. He then lied down and let his eyes drift close; soon his breathing evened out to shallow, slow breaths and before he knew it Joseph was basking in that summer's sun and laughing with his Dad.

* * *

><p>"I'll be back soon Ma! Got a call from Charnov says he got a delivery for me!" declared Joseph has he was leaving the house.<p>

"Okay be home soon I got dinner cooking!" answered Ms. DeAngelo from the kitchen.

Joseph was now the tender age of nineteen, not yet a man but finally out of his adolescent years. He grew in size and was now a tall, lithe man with some muscle definition from working and playing baseball. Joseph was proud to say he was the minor league's most promising players this year and was one of the fastest runners out there in addition to having an impressive batting average. People thought because of his height and weight Joseph would be the team's problem, being as he was taller than the average batter's box and too skinny to effectively throw a ball. He proved his disbeliever's all wrong when at his first major game he has scored three home runs, ran in an extra five for his team and caught almost every ball that popped up his way. As Joseph's coach once said, "The string bean is going somewhere!"

Joseph broke into a brisk jog on the way to the grocer's. He would make the delivery quick so he could get back home fast; his mom was making his favorite dish tonight of pasta with Alfredo sauce and Joseph would be damned before he let Paulie get his grubby hands on it. As soon as he arrived, Mr. Charnov turned at the sound of the store bell ringing and smiled warmly at Joseph. "My gosh Joseph. No matter how many times I look at you I still am shocked of how much you've grown." Mr. Charnov commented in his thick Eastern European accent.

"Thanks Mr. C. So what's this delivery I should be worried about?" Joseph inquired.

Mr. Charnov pulled out a brown paper package from underneath the counter and handed it to Joseph. It was slightly heavy in his hands and he looked puzzled at Mr. Charnov. He simply smiled at Joseph and said "The address is on the package. Deliver it and come back for your pay." Joseph shrugged and started to run to the address. Something was odd though as he continued to run he noticed that the well worn streets of Hanover St. were replaced with smooth paved roads and sidewalks. He slowed to a jog as he took notice of his surroundings. The red and blackened brownstones were replaced with pristine, white buildings. The streets here were bustling with well dressed people and glittering store windows. Joseph felt uncomfortable in his humble black shirt and torn jeans; the atmosphere of this place was stifling and constantly buzzing. Joseph understood and whispered to himself, "This is Newbury St."

Now why would anyone from Newbury St. order a simple package from Charnov's Groceries? With all the best and well known shops of the world lining the clean streets of Newbury why would anyone bother with something from Hanover? Joseph rechecked the package address to make sure he was in the right place. Sure enough the package read to deliver to a Newbury address and Joseph walked down the street bewildered by all he saw as he started towards his destination. He looked at all the windows, crystal and clear as they presented their expensive wares to the ongoing crowd. As he passed by one store in particular his eye caught one of the cashiers and she looked up as she felt someone's eyes trained on her. Joseph jumped slightly startled by the cashier taking notice of him and she smiled and waved politely at him. He gave the most charming grin he could muster and waved back. The girl laughed and turned to continue to work. Joseph started to power walk, grinning all the while, to the address.

When he finally made it he looked up at the Victorian house standing proudly in front of him. The house was stark white and in excellent condition despite being so old. It was very different from the run down and modest brownstone Joseph and his family lived in. He gulped as he felt small in the presence of such a dominant building. He warily walked up the white wooden steps and rang the front doorbell. He heard footsteps from the other side and soon the door was opened by a kind looking old woman. "Hello sonnie, how can I help ye?" said the old woman in her thick Irish brogue.

"Uh, I have a package here for-" Joseph read the label but oddly enough it never said the name of the intended recipient, only the address was printed.

"Ah yes the missus is expected ye. Come in and relax yer feet dear while I put on some tea." Joseph watched as the old woman wandered down the small hallway and back to the kitchen. He stood awkwardly at the door unsure of what to do with himself. The old woman's voice carried from the kitchen, "The missus is waiting up stairs dear. Wouldn't want to be late now would we?"

Joseph walked upstairs with the package stowed beneath his arms. The house was lavishly furnished but he noted that there were no pictures of people anywhere to be found. Also the house looked as though it hadn't been lived in for a long time as though it was clean everything was too new to have been here for awhile. He continued to the top floor when a voice rang from the study. It was rough but distinctly feminine as it growled out, "In here boy." Joseph walked cautiously to the study and saw a woman sitting behind a rick mahogany desk, the blinds down behind her making the room dark. The desk area was illuminated by the warm orange glow from the desk lamp as the woman gestured to the chair in front of her, "Sit."

Joseph just continued to stare at her, transfixed by her odd appearance. She wore a purple one piece suit with shiny, coal black buttons that shone even in the dim lighting in the study. Her hair was immaculately styled in the current fashion of the fifties but he could tell she was older because of the gray streaks lining from her temple. She looked a bit worn and wore too much makeup for Joseph's taste but it was really hard to tell what she looked like with such dim lighting. She tracked his movements like a hawk until he sat down when she continued, "So you are Joseph Francis DeAngelo I believe?"

"Who's asking?" Joseph retorted. The woman merely smirked as she countered, "A friend Mr. DeAngelo."

"Um if you'd pardon miss, Mr. DeAngelo was my father. Please call me Joey."

"Ah I see. Well _Joey_, you are probably wondering why Mr. Charnov has sent you here. Well the truth is Joey, my benefactor and I have sought out someone with your certain _talents_ and were actually shocked to see you are so young in age. It is astonishing how you can manipulate your body to perform such amazing athletic feats."

Joseph glared and started carefully, "If you're implying I'm doin' drugs I can tell you now I'm clean." The woman laughed and responded, "Worry not Joey we do not represent any sort of health board and we are well aware you are clean of any medical enhancements."

"What do you want then?" Joseph asked.

"Well you see Joey, we are in a bit of a scrap with another company. Nothing huge just some good, _healthy_ competition but we recently found out that our competitors have raised the stakes. So of course, we in response have raised ours." As the woman lit up a cigarette, Joseph stared at her; confusion was clear on his face.

"Um lady what are you goin' on about?"

"Joey, we want you to become a part of our team. We need someone like you to support our team. You see you have the ability to think quick on your feet and act fast which is a survival instinct that is valuable to what we seek to do. We can use your talents to recover stolen intelligence or to gain an advantage over our competitors. After all in my honest opinion Joey, your talents are being wasted by just simply conforming to playing _baseball_."

At this Joseph fumed and suddenly stood up from his chair. He shouted at the woman, "No you listen here lady baseball is a great sport! It takes a lot of skill to play it and a great team effort to pull shit off! I don't know who you think you are getting' off telling me what and what I should not be playing but I'll tell you this; it's my goddamn decision what I do and if I chose to make it in the major leagues then that's what I'm gonna do!"

The woman just stared at Joseph as he finished ranting and was now panting from unleashing his pent up frustration. She took a drag from her cigarette and stated calmly, "Listen Joseph I know baseball meant a lot to your father-"

Joseph's eyes open at her revelation and he asked in a low, angry whisper, "Who the hell are you?"

"- and you're merely trying to fulfill his wishes but if you would just take a second to think this opportunity through -"

"I ASKED WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?"

"Joseph open the package." The woman suddenly said. She looked at his rage filled gaze evenly, not at all deterred by his anger. He held his gaze steadily and asked, "What?"

"The package Joseph, on the floor. Open it." Joseph had forgotten the package completely when he started to shout. He looked down at the mysterious paper bound package on the floor. He gingerly picked it up, almost afraid of what he would find inside. He sat back down in his chair and tore open the brown packaging. There was a gun inside but it was a peculiar sort of gun; it was a customized double barrel shotgun with most of the barrel sawn off to make the gun more light weight and portable. It was a level action shotgun and could probably fire off ten rounds very quickly and do major damage to any victims in its wide range. Joseph looked back up at the woman, "What the hell is this?"

"Your father's scattergun." The woman answered calmly as she blew out a puff of smoke. The smoke filled the room with an eerie white-gray mist that made Joseph feel as though this was more of a nightmare than reality. "Take a long walk off a short pier lady, my dad was no killer."

"Did he not leave his family to join the war?" The woman countered.

"Yeah but even so the army don't pack their soldiers with freakish heats like this one. There's no way that he could have carried this on the field and besides my dad was a hero -"

"A killer." The woman repeated, taking another drag.

"He was a damn good, honest soldier who served his country-"

"He was a mercenary who served us Joseph!" The woman finally answered roughly, eyes wide as she stared down Joseph. Joseph's words died in his throat at her cold, harsh gaze. The woman finally relaxed and continued, "Don't be a fool Joseph. Didn't you ever wonder why even though your father apparently died in the war his body was never returned to you or your mother? Or how those checks you receive from the mail that help pay for the clothes on your back seemly come from some kind, old sympathizer? Or even how your father would seemingly disappear for long lengths of time on weird "business trips"? Think boy, think!" The woman finished studying Joseph with cold, unfeeling eyes. As Joseph finally looked up at her face he could have sworn he saw her eyes flash a bright violet. He finally started, "My dad . . . my father . . . he couldn't have he-"

"He had an obligation to fill and he failed. He was our top agent in our recovery branch and he was finally cornered by the competing team. He was tortured and murdered within three weeks of capture. His last request was that we watch over his family." The woman continued as she now has Joseph's avid attention. He was not even breathing as she continued; "Now my benefactor and I have kept your father's promise. We have kept a close eye on you and your family in complete secrecy, taking care not to be noticed and to be an invisible helping hand in your times of need. However we have noticed something special in you Joseph. You are very similar to your father in more ways then you know; you have his cunning and his ability to run and perform amazing athletic feats. You have shown everyone around you, you are more than the average young baseball fanatic. Your disbelievers were awed by your perseverance and your fans adore you on the field; but wouldn't you like greater glory? The glory your father had? His name is legend amongst assassins and his accomplishments just show his excellence on the battlefield. Your father was a great asset to us and let me just say I was very sorry to see him go."

Joseph just stared, he was lost in his thought which were whizzing around his head a million times a minute. His father was an assassin? Not only any assassin either but one of the finest, possibly in the entire world. Joseph still couldn't believe it, he was thinking so hard that the room started to spin. Finally the woman's voice called him from his stupor, "These are for you Joey." The woman handed him a folder. He opened it to find all sorts of files labeled under his father's name. The woman continued, "These are all our briefings on your father. You will find all the information you need in those files. It would be wise to keep them close to your person and to tell no one of our meeting. Your father still has enemies."

Joseph nodded his head in agreement and started to walk out the study. He closed the door gingerly behind him without uttering another word to the silent woman who still stalked him behind the great oak doors. As he stood there shell shocked the elderly woman who let him in arrived with a tray of tea balanced in her hands. She looked up and him and said, "Oh going so soon deaire? Ah well that's a fwine shame I just got the tea all done and proper. Well hopes not lost I suppose. We'll be seein' ya soon. I believe you can show yerself out." Joseph uttered a curt goodbye and started down the stairs. As soon as the white door shut behind him Joseph blotted down the street and barreled his way back home, brown package and folder tucked securely under one arm. The woman watched from the window in the study as she heard a knock on the door. "Come in Mrs. McCullun."

The elderly woman let herself in, gingerly balancing the silver tea tray on her hip as she opened the oak door. "Such a fwine lad, looks just like his Dad."

"Yes," the woman started, still glancing at the rapidly disappearing figure of Joseph rushing down the street. "Very like him."

* * *

><p>When Joseph reached the front door of his house he literally could not breathe. He collapsed on the stoop as he struggled to regain his composure. "What the hell <em>was <em>that?" Joseph thought as his chest rapidly expanding and fell within his sweat soaked shirt. When he finally relaxed somewhat he reached inside his pocket and retrieved the house key. As soon as he unlocked the door his mother's shrill voice came from the hallway.

"Oh thank god your home Joseph!" Ms. DeAngelo flung herself at her son as he stubled backwards from the force of the bear hug. She then quickly reestablished herself and slapped him across the face sharply. "Ow! Jeez Ma what the heck was that for?"

"That is for staying out this long! My god Joey I'm used to you being away but never this long! I started to worry and when I called Mr. Charnov he said you hadn't returned in awhile and oh well you know how his memory fails him and he said he hadn't remembered where he sent you! Oh Joseph I was so worried!" Joseph received another bear hug from his mother as he patted her back reassuringly. "Ma it's okay! I just got a bit lost okay? Mr. Charnov scribbled the address all wrong and there was a bit of a delivery mix up that's all."

Ms. DeAngelo let go of her son and put his face in her hands. She looked deep into his eyes for any suspicions but when she felt satisfied that what he was saying was true she let go of him with a soft smile and said, "Alright well I'm just glad you're okay! Dinner's in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Ma." Joseph started for the fridge but his body was on autopilot. His mind was racing as he still tried to cope with this new revelation that his father might have been a professional killer. He could not believe it and yet some part of him could. The strange woman brought up feasible and interesting points about all the unanswered mysteries surrounding his father. When Joseph finished eating he washed his dishes and got ready for bed. Dressed in a fresh pair of sweats and all alone in his room as his brothers were out working late, Joseph looked over at the lonely folder and package lying on his bed. He stared for a long time at the seemingly innocent items on his bed until finally with a defeated sigh he slumped onto his bed and started to read through the folder.

* * *

><p>Joseph could not believe he was here again. He was going to face the woman that literally changed his life over night. He did not sleep a wink the night before as he became engrossed in his father's old files. He was astounded by all the missions his dad completed and all the men he had killed while working in the field. He truly was a valuable asset to the Reliable Excavation Demolition Corporation as he single handily protected and stole intelligence from the competing Builder League United Corporation. Even though it was beyond him, Joseph felt himself attracted to his father's lifestyle and somehow felt that he had left with unfinished business; it was now Joseph's turn to finish that business.<p>

Joseph waited impatiently and was about to knock again until Mrs. McCullun answered the door and stated, "Took ye long enough. Come on we've been expectin' ye. As usual missus will be upstairs and the kettle's gettin' warm." Joseph walked upstairs as his heart was beating a mile a minute. He was not even faced with the woman and already he felt as though he had run a marathon. The doors to the study were open and as he entered he noticed that the blinds were up and the room was no longer dark. The same woman from before was sitting in her usual spot with only one other chair in the room. She turned to him and nodded curtly, "Joseph."

"Announcer." Joseph answered back. She smiled at her title and said, "So I see you've read up on your father's old files."

Joseph exclaimed, "More than that ma'm! I . . . I want to join the R.E.D team!" The Announcer looked seriously at Joseph for a moment and replied evenly, "Listen now Joseph this is a serious decision you are making here. What you're getting into is no child's game, this is war. As you now know you can no longer have contact with the outside world; not even you family can know of what is going on."

Joseph gulped but answered in a steady voice, "I know what I'm getting into and I want this. I want to make my Dad proud and I want to able to support my family. To be honest Announcer you trying to dissuade me is only making me want this more." The Announcer smiled and declared, "_Excellent_ _Joseph_. There's only one thing left to figure out."

"What's that?" Joseph inquired. The Announcer's grin was now feral as she stated, "Why since this is your decision I'm going to hand you the honor of choosing your code name."

"That's easy," smirked Joseph. "I want my Dad's old codename."

The Announcer took a long drag from her cigarette and as she blew out the smoke she growled, her violet eyes shining behind the mist. "_Welcome to the team, Scout_."


	3. The Heavy

If These Walls Could Talk

Chapter 3: The Heavy

_A/N: Just a quick note: Before Ivan meets his "mystery benefactor" in the second part of the story he and the men on the base are speaking Russian. That is why there is no apparent Russian accent in their dialogue. Please enjoy this chapter; it is a bit shorter than the other two._

"Today is cold, very cold." Ivan thought bitterly as he trudged through snow back to the base. "This is no good for the guns. If the temperature drops anymore it could possibly freeze up the gears that spin the barrels of Sasha." _Sasha_ is Ivan's beloved gun; he crafted her at the tender age of sixteen with just scrap metal, rubber bands and what his hero Saxton Hale would call, "good old manly ingenuity". Ever since then he has traversed Russia hopping from military base to secret organizations finding the best parts for his beloved prototype while doing what he does best which of course, "ezn't very nice".

Ivan's eyes were bleary as he continued to fight against the harsh winds blowing against his face. His comrades were always shocked as how in this below degree weather Ivan could step one foot outside without any sort of face covering. Ivan shrugs at their wide eye glances and simply states, "I've been through worse." It feels like an eternity to Ivan before he reaches the base door; he fumbles for his I.D. card and finally retrieves it. He swipes himself in and rushes inside, his huge arms ladled with weapon parts for Sasha and his newest baby, _Natascha_. Ivan could not hold back the sigh of relief as the door slid shut behind him and the wind stopped blowing in his face. The base was still very cold and there was not much a difference from the outside but this was something Ivan did not mind.

In fact Ivan does not mind a lot of things and it is because of this semmingly passive nature his comrades on the base fear him the most. Ivan walked through the narrow corridors, his huge frame barely contained within the confines of the base and his fellow base mates rushed by him making sure not to make eye contact. This was simply another thing Ivan did not mind; he liked being alone with his guns and rather he was not interrupted by anything these idiots had to say. Ivan finally reached the base's armory which also served as his quarters. Ivan liked sleeping with the guns as he did not trust anyone else with his precious creations and base operatives knew better than to try and take anything from the armory without his permission first; the first poor victim who tried still complains about the pain he feels in his broken fingers.

Ivan kicked the large metal door shut behind him as he plopped down his precious cargo onto his large makeshift bed. The bed creaked under the weight of the metal but Ivan knew better than to worry, after all if it could support his body weight all these years it could surely support the weight of some measly metal parts. Except in anyone else's standards these were not simple metal parts but advance weapon parts hot off the American's military bases. How Ivan got them he will never tell you and it is best you do not ask again rather you mouth meets his fist in his way of saying, "Do svidaniya". Ivan smiled at his loot and said to himself, "Yes this will do nicely. Now Natasha will fire more bullets and Sasha will be lighter to hold!" However just before he could get started on his "lovelies" there was a knock on his door. Ivan answered irritation clear in his rough, low voice "Yes?"

"A-ah sorry to disturb you Ivan b-but there is someone here to see you." The voice stuttered from behind the doorway. Ivan stood confused for a moment and answered back, "Who wants to see me?"

"An American, a woman comrade." The voice answered. At this Ivan became truly perplexed; why would anyone come all the way out here in the cold wasteland of Siberia to see him? Also, of all people it was an America . . . a woman! Ivan thought to himself, "It can't be an employer they would have just phoned in or sent the message, not come personally. This is really odd." Curiosity got the best of Ivan as he gingerly placed the weapon part he was examining down on the bed and opened the door. The small messenger squeaked and ran away at the sight of this massive man appearing at the doorway. Ivan sucked his teeth and put his hand to his head, the idiot ran off without telling him where the woman was. "Typical." Ivan thought as he now had to seek the woman out in the base.

Ivan wandered through the different rooms of the base; each room he peeked in the men seemed to react like gazelles at the sight of a mighty lion. They all scattered before he could ask any of the men of they had seen an American woman anywhere in the base. However Ivan was again fine with this revelation too; since he was young people ran from him. He was unnaturally strong for a man his age and his weight did not deter him in battle. He was a good strategist besides rumors around the base that he was a great, lumbering idiot. Ivan was quiet because he preferred to be quiet and he did not talk much not because he did not know over ten different languages but because he _chose not to_. Despite wielding an over two ton gun of pure metal that fires over ten thousand rounds of four hundred dollar custom bullets in the span of twelve seconds, Ivan is not a man who likes to draw attention to himself. Most of the time before Ivan's enemies even notice him he's already mowed them down with very heavy ammunition. Yes, you could say Ivan was very proud of his achievements as a hired gun specialist. After all, he _is _the best in the world.

After wandering the base for about an hour, Ivan's stomach started to rumble. Ivan put a large hand over his sizeable torso as he grumbled, "I'm so hungry. I need a sandwich." It was once said that if you took a poll of Ivan's favorite things his top three would most definitely be: guns, classical music and sandwiches. Beyond even Ivan's understanding, his body craved these triangle shaped ham goodies ever since he was a young child living with his family in Russia. Maybe it was due to the nostalgia of being home but Ivan could never deny anything when it came to ham sandwiches. Ivan U-turned and headed back towards the cafeteria and as usual the men that were casually laughing and eating turned and stared at Ivan like a deer in headlights. They did not run but looked down at their plates and mumbled greetings as Ivan stalked past their tables to the chef's counter. Ivan ignored them as he headed towards the chef who turned and smiled at his favorite consumer. "Ivan! Greetings! Let me guess you want a ham deluxe sandwich with an olive on top?" Ivan smiled back at the chef and simply nodded. The chef winked and declared he would announce when it was ready. Ivan took his usual place in the back of the cafeteria, away from everyone else. The men eased as Ivan left them to their business and they continued talking amongst themselves now ignoring Ivan completely.

Ivan watched all the men laughing amongst themselves, swapping war stories and roughly patting each other on the back. The men seemed so cheerful and at ease with one another, which was something Ivan has never shared with anyone outside his family back home. Of course, this was one of the many things he again did not mind. Getting close to people only meant you could get hurt later on when relationships failed, or that is the mantra Ivan repeated in his head when he felt that weird cold knot in his belly. Ivan's ears perked however when he heard his order being called. He got up and headed for the counter but as he was about to leave with his meal the chef stopped him for some idle chit-chat. "Oi, Ivan how are Sasha and Natascha?"

"They are well thank you for asking. I got them new parts so they will perform better on the field." Ivan answered politely. For some reason the chef always knew when he wanted to talk and Ivan was never annoyed by the chef wanting to talk to him. The chef nodded and smiled before his eyes went wide; he had realized something. "Oh! Ivan before I forget comrade, there was strange woman asking for you! She seemed a bit impatient as she said she'd been waiting for you for awhile." Ivan's eyes widened slightly at the revelation before asking, "Did she say where she was going?"

"Yes she did! Pardon me Ivan but she said she figured, and I quote from her my friend not me; "The fat loaf will probably get hungry correct? Well send him to my quarters when he's done stuffing his face. Here, I don't trust you with remembering where my room is." Well comrade she gave me this!" As the chef finished relaying the message he handed Ivan a bit of paper with impeccably neat handwriting addressing where Ivan's mystery guest would be staying. "Thank you Peter. I won't keep her waiting long." With the paper in hand Ivan headed off to meet this American shrouded in mystery.

* * *

><p>"Where is that miserable fat oaf?" thought Ivan's guest bitterly as she shivered in her cold room. She wrapped her purple coat around her tighter, making sure the black fur lining secured any open spots that might let in the cold drafts. Her hands shook as she lifted her cigarette to her lips, the orange light illuminating through the semi-darkness. She scowled as she thought to herself, "This idiot best be worth my time. I cannot believe Redmond sent me out here to recruit this man myself. He must be someone special."<p>

It was true this particular woman did not usually go out to recruit mercenaries herself on behalf of the R.E.D Company but when she had heard how desperate the CEO Redmond was over getting to this man before his brother did she would have been lying if she said she was not curious. However, the woman was now regretting her decision as she shivered in the cold, dark room she was confined in; waiting for who the Russians whispered "The Iron Bear". Finally before she thought she would catch hypothermia, the door opened and there stood the largest man she had ever seen. Standing well over six feet and as wide as a grizzly bear was a clean shaved, bald man with clear blue eyes. He stood at the doorway studying her as closely as she was studying him, both trying to figure each other out. The woman now understood why this man was so dangerous and internally grinned, "He's a genius and a killer; a true predator in a man." The woman put out her cigarette and stated in a steady, rough growl "Ivan Von CherinKov?"

He stared hard and nodded. "She is American, " Ivan affirmed for himself. "But I can't tell where from America she's from. I also don't trust her." Ivan's instincts kicked into overdrive but he appeared calm before her as he allowed her to continue.

"Well Ivan aren't you going to sit down?" The woman gestured to the chair in the corner across from her. Ivan shut the door behind him and he reached for the chair. His hands were so big that he needed only his fingertips to lift the chair into place and as he sat upon it the chair let out an ominous creak but stayed together in one piece. Ivan looked up at the woman and started slowly, "How did you know I understood English?"

"Oh come now Ivan you really did not presume we would not do a background check on possible candidate for our team's line up. No need to be alarmed Mr. CherinKov we have done this with all our candidates." The woman sat staring, arms crossed as Ivan made a motion to speak but he settled down. As he stared silent she continued, "So Ivan I hear you are a weapon's specialist."

"Jes."

"The best in the world?"

"I would hope so."

"Why's that Mr. CherinKov?" The woman asked. Ivan sneered and stated whilst shrugging. "I killed the original expert." Ivan expected the usual reaction; a recoil of fear or a jaw drop of astonishment. What he did not expect was the absolute feral grin the woman was giving him at his revelation. "Tell me Ivan do you enjoy killing people?"

At this Ivan frowned and said, "No, I do not enjoy it. I do des to others because dey fear me, dey think I'm stupid. Others have sought to hurt me, maybe even possibly kell me. Others think they can outsmart me." At the Ivan pulled out a large gold cased bullet in which he waved in front of the woman and continued, "But I've yet to see dem outsmart bullet. I seek to prove that I am superior and that my weapons are the best. That ez why I kell."

The woman seemed satisfied with Ivan's answer and inquired, "How would like to join our team Mr. CherinKov? It is on their battlefield you will find true glory after all." Ivan was confused and finally asked, "Who are you?"

The woman reached in her coat pocket and pulled out her cigarette case. She nimbly pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between her lips; she then pulled out a silver lighter with a rich amount of engravings on the case. Ivan watched hypnotized by the fluid and at the same time, robotic movements as the woman lit her cigarette and took a drag before answering his question. "I am called the Announcer and I represent a company looking to hire the best mercenaries in the world to assist R.E.D in a corporate takeover of their sworn enemy B.L.U. My job is to assemble a powerful team for my benefactor to ensure complete and total victory over B.L.U."

There was no need for her to explain who these companies were as the Announcer was aware that Ivan was well versed in what was happening in the States. "I have heard of des war in the United States. The mercenaries here, they call it suicide. A war that spans forever because the men behind it are inhuman, dey are strapped to machines that make dem breathe eternal life. Or dat ez at least what I have heard." If the Announcer was shocked by how much Ivan knew about the war and the two companies involved her face did not show it as she still assumed the same icy demeanor. She blew white smoke into the air as she asked, "What is it you think Ivan?"

Ivan thought for a moment and suddenly smiled and answered with another question, "The best mercenaries in the world you say?" The woman smirked and nodded her head. Ivan let out a hearty laugh that bellowed in the small room. When he stopped laughing Ivan looked up at the woman and said, "Dis is suicide mission, only a crazy man would accept it." Before the Announcer could interject Ivan held up a hand and smiled as he continued, "And I would be crazy to deny dis mission."

The Announcer smiled at this and asked, "What would you like to be called in the States _Iron Bear_?"

At this Ivan grinned wide, his eyes wild and fiery as he answered, "_I Am Heavy Weapons' Guy_."


	4. The Sniper

If These Walls Could Talk

Chapter 4: The Sniper

_A/N: Originally the Demoman was next in line for his story but since LilyRosetheDreamer was so kind to review she requested that Sniper should be next. So Demoman will be bumped to Chapter 5 in this miniature saga I have planned. I hope you enjoy this chapter Lily and thank you again for your review._

"Boom, headshot." Richard Mundy muttered under his breath as the bullet rang from his Parker-Hale M82. His keen eye was still trained through the scope as he witnessed the frenzied bodyguards swarm around the now dead body of Ted Banks, a new up and coming candidate in the Australian prime minster primaries. Screams rang from the crowd as people fled in terror of the scene and police frantically searched the skies for any sign of the sniper. Richard chuckled lowly as he lowered his weapon and started to pack his things into his trusty knapsack. When he finally gathered all his belongings he lifted the sewer grate fully above him and climbed out the grate that concealed him from the crowd. He smirked as he lowered his leather hat as the crowd swarmed past him and the police were requesting all units to survey the area.

"Check all buildings surrounding the area! Repeat all buildings! The sniper may still be in the vicinity!" Richard heard from a young officer's radio as he shoved past him and ran to the tallest building in the area. Richard looked smug as he reached his camper and climbed inside. "Those idiots think I sniped Ted from above. A true bushman would ha'e realized I took the low ground." Richard thought as he started the RV. The 1960s Land Rover Pickup let out a loud bang as the engine sputtered to life and started to rumble into gear. Richard's parents have been trying to persuade him to get rid of his RV for years but Richard just tells them, "I can't get rid o' Tina not after all we've been through". He gave "Tina" an appreciative pat on the dashboard before he pressed down on the gas pedal and the RV drove out of sight.

Richard sighed in content as he was finally out of the city. The big, clean streets of Sydney never appealed to him and he could not stand the sight of so many people crammed next to each other as they walked the cement streets. No, Richard was an outdoorsman at heart; always has been and he was convinced he always would be. He enjoyed the great outback of the great Australian frontier with its red sands and dangerous beasts lurking around every corner. Yes it was true that real men were made in Australia, at least by Richard's standards. He drove for miles until he came to his favorite outpost way out into the deserts of Australia, beyond the great lights of the city. He parked his camper and hopped out the RV as he headed straight for the pub. When he opened the door his nostrils were filled with the scent of beer, leather and good old fashioned Australian man sweat. Richard never felt more at home for as soon as the patrons of said pub saw him enter they all greeted him with loud salutations of, "Good even' Dick!" and "Oi! There he is, good day ther' Dick!" Richard just tipped his hat as he made his way to the bar and the patrons went back to their business.

The pub owner smiled at Richard as he sat on the worn leather stool which squeaked in protest. Richard took off his hat and placed it on the counter as he ran his fingers through his hair. It appeared he needed a haircut. Bruce continued to grin as he nodded to the small black and white television in the corner of the pub. "Saw your work on the tube today, mate." Richard looked up and responded, "Look good?"

"It was a proper bloody wootin' mate. The police are still tryin' to scout the poor sod who they still believe is hanging 'bout the area. Bunch o' pikers; I tell you the world would be a better place if they had more bushmen out in the force." Richard laughed curtly and smirked as he stated, "Mate I would be out of a job if they had more people like me in the force. I depend on idiots." Bruce laughed and nodded as he placed a cold nip in front of Richard. Richard took the bottle and took a swig, grimacing as he downed the tart liquid. Bruce smirked and asked, "How is it?" Richard sneered and answered, "Tastes like piss".

Richard did not stay long at the pub and left once he felt the warm buzz settle in. After all he did not want to be completely out of it; he had more jobs to do and places to drive tonight. The last thing he wanted was to be useless out in the desert alone. He drove from the settlement into the night as the moon served as his guiding light.

* * *

><p>Richard lifted his hat to relieve some of the sweat gathering at his brow. It was a scorcher out in the outback today as the unforgiving sun bore down on him as he cooked breakfast. On today's menu was a jack rabbit he shot yards away with his trusty bow and arrow and a side serving of baked beans. He stoked the fire which did nothing to help the heat already burning his skin even under the protection of his clothes. The one thing Richard admitted he did not like about the outback was trying to cook a decent breakfast in the desert or any meal at mid-day. That's why he tried to keep cooking to a minimum and only cooked at night when fire was needed to combat the freezing weather of the unforgiving desert.<p>

Richard sighed in content though; he never could scorn nature being the cruel mistress she is. The Australian sands were about as unpredictable as any great battlefield and was a man's true test as it was a war between a lone soldier and a great giant; sort of like one of Richard's favorite fables David and Goliath. Richard finally finished cooking his food and gratefully put out the fire and sat on his lawn chair under the shade of the RV's canopy. He enjoyed his breakfast with only the occasional call of a desert bird and rustling of animals moving about the shifting sands. Richard wished it could be like this forever but unfortunately he had a job to do. He frowned as he recalled the mission requirements in his head.

He was to drive to a private air strip near Saxton Outpost; there he could charter a plane off record to Japan where he was to "take out" a big Yakuza crime lord for a jealous rival gang leader. You could say Richard Mundy's life was glamorous to a certain degree; he got to travel the world, make his own hours, always be outdoors and meet high profile clients (Though he usually killed them before they met him). Not to mention the pay was not bad either, though he mostly spent the money on traveling expenses, collecting guns and repairing Tina. Of course Richard's parents never cared for any of his "assassin business". His father once affectionately called him a "crazed guman" over one cheery conversation on the phone in Brisbane. Richard tried to explain that he was a "professional assassin" one difference being that his work was a profession while what his father was referring to was a "mental sickness". He sighed as he dumped the rest of his meal on the sandy ground. Suddenly he was not very hungry anymore.

* * *

><p>Richard arrived at Tokyo two days earlier than the intended date of the "hit". His employer was surprised but thrilled at his enthusiasm. Richard politely corrected Boss Takashi as he assured his early arrival is "strictly business" and he held no higher esteem for his client than any other he had in the past. Richard just knew he had a reputation to keep as an assassin and could not afford any mistakes on any of his missions. Boss Takashi still took a liking to Richard's "tough Australian attitude" and assigned him a guide to give him a tour of Tokyo. A part of Richard wanted to decline as already the bright showy lights of the airport gave him a headache but the bushman training and instincts told him to accept as it was a good opportunity to get to know his hunting grounds.<p>

Richard and his guide wandered through the streets as the guide rambled on about the history of certain places or the fine offerings the markets had to give. Richard still held the nonchalant look of boredom as he studied his surroundings; Tokyo was nothing like Sydney or Brisbane. Yet some part of the culture was similar to Australia as the people were polite and hard working as any Australian was. Richard was also surprised when he tried his first Japanese cuisine of sushi as the guide explained that it was a common dish of raw fish. Richard smiled inwardly as he said to himself, 'Wait 'till I tell the mates back home that I ate _raw_ fish!". As Richard and the guide left the local sushi bar they wandered a bit more until the guide realized the time and apologized as he was needed back with Boss Takashi. Richard understood and bowed politely as he thanked the guide for his extensive tour. As soon as the guide was out of sight Richard's charming smile wiped clean of his face as his eyes became hard and his hunting instincts turned on.

"_The game begins_." Richard thought to himself as a vicious smirk etched onto his face. You see little did Boss Takashi know, but Yakuza big shot Matsumoto had gotten wind of his assassination plans. When he heard Richard Mundy's name dropped he of course scrambled a way to appeal to Mundy to call off the hit. Richard was first uninterested in Matsumoto's offers in exchange for his life for Takashi's (After all professionals have _standards_ and despite what people thought Mundy _does _have a moral code no matter how twisted it is) until Matsumoto offered Richard his prize possession. It was an imperial rifle crafted in Japan by ancient gunmen who in order to industrialize the Emperor's army was ordered to create these rifles in secrecy in order not to draw attention of the Shogun. The gun was passed down through Matsumoto's family but was now offered to Mundy (along with a substantial amount f money) if he agreed to kill Takashi in his place. Well with an offer like that in Richard's hands, how could he refuse? Ancient Japanese war rifles just do not appear in any old gun shop do they?

Richard retraced his steps to where Boss Takashi and his men stayed. It was a mostly deserted downtown area where only bums and prostitutes dared trek in fear of the great Boss Takashi. Richard smirked to himself as he thought "This is gonna practically be a mercy killin'." He climbed the fire escapes to his hidden perch which he set up earlier in the day in preparation for Takashi's demise. The site Richard chose was near perfect if he may so himself; it was high up but not so high or low that he could not get a clear shot of Takashi's office. There was only one window facing Richard's direction but he knew he could still get a clear shot. The area was also secluded by a shack atop of a building that Richard supposed belonged to some sort of vagrant.

Richard sat atop a nearby crate and aimed his rifle, camouflaged in the crisp darkness of the night. There were no big, bright neon lights here to reveal his location or any police nearby to call. Richard sneered as he looked through his scope, "To easy," he thought. He scoffed though as he realized it was still early and Takashi was having a meeting with several other men in his office. As much as the thought of splattering his brains out mid sentence brought Richard much pleasure, the amount of witnesses to his execution would be troublesome down the road. "No need to alert the whole herd Richard, you only need one."

Richard lowered his weapon and set it down next to him. He looked at his watch as it read nine fifteen. He recalled Boss Takashi telling him that if he needed any assistance from him he could count on Takashi at his office very late. Richard leaned back on the shed wall and reached into his knapsack for his thermos and mug which appropriately read "#1 Sniper". He smiled inwardly as he remembered the gift from his Mom who, while worried for her son, understood that Richard enjoyed doing what he was great at. Unfortunately what he did was illegal and with the amount of times he's committed murder it could land him in jail several times over for at least one lifetime. Richard frowned as he drank his coffee, willing away the negative thoughts. It made the coffee taste bad.

* * *

><p>It seemed like a lifetime before Boss Takashi ordered everyone away from his office. Richard had been waiting patiently for his chance and raised the scope to his eye. The cold metal bit slightly at his eyelid as he leveled his breathing. He muttered to himself, "Steady, steady." He let out calm shallow breathes as waited for Takashi to be in perfect range. He let out one final breathe before releasing the trigger. The bullet sailed effortlessly through the open air and straight through the window. It landed square between Takashi's eyes who crashed back into the shelving unit behind him from the force of the bullet's impact. Richard witnessed the door of the office bursting open as Takashi's personal guards entered the small space. One guard knelt over the body to assess the damage while the other rushed to the window. The guard looked out the window but Richard had already taken shelter behind the walls of the shack. Richard peered through a termite eaten hole of the wood paneling in an effort to see when the coast was clear. "Good," thought Richard as the guards finally left the window and concentrated on Takashi. "They're distracted." Richard crawled over to his perch and quickly began to collect his things until he heard a small sound behind him. His head whipped around sharply, his kukri in hand.<p>

The "owner" of the shack had returned and was holding his hands to his mouth as he stared wide eyed at Richard. Richard swore as he picked himself off the ground and headed towards the old beggar. The man began to take steps backwards, trembling and shaking his head in denial. Richard raised the kukri over his head and stabbed the man in the chest. Richard swiftly covered the beggar's mouth to muffle the scream as he lowered the man to the ground. The man laid peacefully on the rooftop, blood pouring out the open wound and soaking the ground and clothes of the beggar. Richard removed his hat and put it above his chest, all the while looking sorrowfully at the old beggar. "I'm sorry mate, I really wished you didn' have the see me do that." Richard hurried with his belongings and made to escape the rooftops before Takashi's men began scouting the area. He gave one last look over his shoulder to the old beggar on the ground. He lowered his cap over his eyes as he muttered, "I really wish you hadn't."

* * *

><p>Richard stepped into the pub as the usual patrons gave their usual greetings to him as he sat at the bar. It had been months since the "Takashi Fiasco" as the Tokyo press was calling it and as promised Richard received the rifle in the mail and the money wired to his bank account (One of several). The rifle was now a part of his proud collection he kept with him at all times in his beat up RV. He was drinking the usual "piss water" and shooting the breeze with some of the regulars when several cat calls suddenly erupted from the front of the bar. A woman impeccably dressed in an odd purple two piece suit and black shoes casually walked into the pub. The men winked at her as she entered and some called over to her in offerings to join their table. The woman ignored all the cat calls however and walked straight to the bar where Richard had his back turned, chatting away with Bruce.<p>

The woman sat next to Richard and reached for her cigarette case when Richard stopped her. "I'm sorry sheila but this is a no smokin' pub. If you want a drag you'll have to take it out back." The woman smiled and apologized as she gingerly placed the case back in her pocket. Bruce turned to her and inquired if she wanted anything. She told him, "Yes Bruce, why don't you pour me some of that piss water you gentlemen all drink." Bruce gave her a weird look but shrugged as he fetched a glass from the cabinet. Richard remained motionless except for the occasional movement of raising his bottle to his lips. Bruce returned with the woman's drink and she thanked him, all the while still staring at Richard. Bruce finally asked, "Eh, do you two know each other?"

"Never met her in my life." Richard replied nonchalantly, still ignoring her as she continued to stare intently at him. Bruce now was completely baffled but shook his head as he drifted away to the other patrons. Richard finally turned to the woman and asked, "You be needin' anything shelia?" The woman smiled but shook her head as she reached for her pint of beer. Richard and the rest of the pub stared as she downed the beer in one go, not a drop spilled from her lips. She placed the pint back down onto the counter with a soft thud and let out a rough gasp. She then took a purple handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the sides of her mouth daintily. She turned away from Richard and stood up; she thanked Bruce for the drink and paid him full as she stalked out the pub, all eyes trained on her retreating form.

The pub members murmured to each other excitedly. "What the hell was tha' about?"

"I dunno mate but not even I could down a nip like that girl."

"She ain't no girl mate she's a woman."

Richard sighed as he lifted his hat to his head and was about to leave when Bruce and the other patrons stopped him. "Oi Dick you're just not leaving now mate are you?"

"Sorry you wankers but I got huntin' to do for tomorrow's meal. 'Less any of you wusses wants to pay for my meals."

"Yeah all that's great Dick but you can't just tell me what just happened doesn' interest you." Bruce stated as he crossed his arms across his chest. The rest of the patrons stared expectedly at Richard for an answer to the mystery woman. "The hell are you goin' on about mate?"

"Oh please don' play coy ya panzer! She was staring so hard through you I thought any second you'd be looking like bleedin' Swiss cheese!" Bruce exclaimed as the patrons all murmured in agreement. "She was interested in you mate!"

"I told you, ya bleedin' mongrel! I've never seen the bitch in my life!" Richard exclaimed. The pub fell silent as they all stared at Richard; he did not understand why their curiosity got him so mad but he meant it when he said he had never seen the woman in his life. He now had a headache as he sucked his teeth and placed his hat lower over his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and left the pub without even bothering to pay Bruce for the beer. He sulked back to his camper but was surprised to see the mystery woman from the pub leaning against the side of his RV. "You always this pleasant when the topic of women arises?" she purred around her cigarette. Richard lifted his hat slightly and glared.

"I have a bad reputation when it comes to that sort of stuff."

"Oh? Well I guess you can't be great at everything Mr. Mundy." The woman smirked. He continued to glare as he thrust a thumb behind him. "Get off Tina."

"Who?"

"The RV. Get off my bloody camper."

The woman just stared her arms crossed as she matched his glare evenly. "And if I refuse?" Richard was getting more irritated by this mystery woman; who the hell does she think she is anyway! "This is your last warnin' shelia. Get. Off. The. Camper." The woman smirked and answered a steady, "No." That was the last straw.

Richard reared back and lunged to grab the woman, but before he could she swiftly stepped to the side as he crashed into the side of the camper. He groaned as his head impacted hard with the sturdy metal, his combat skills impaired slightly by the alcohol in his bloodstream. Before he time to react the woman had grabbed his arms and pulled them back behind him. He yelled as she planted a foot between his shoulder blades, her heel digging into his back. She swung him to the ground with strength he never would have realized she had and held his arms behind him like reins. Her heel still dug into his back as he groaned, cheek plastered in the warm sand. He was dizzy and disoriented as the woman bent down closer to his face. He groaned again as now more weight was applied on his back and his arms were still outstretched behind him painfully. The woman growled out, cigarette still in her mouth and not a single strand of her gray and black hair out of place, "Now I'm going to let you go Mr. Mundy and you're going to listen to my offer. If you try to attack me again I _will_ not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?"

Richard groaned out a yes as she finally released him. He struggled to get up as she fixed her suit back to its proper place and blew out the smoke from her lungs. She coughed as she leant against the side of the RV; Richard finally managed to get up though was leaning from the throbbing pain in his back and shoulders. "Jesus sheila I've taken men down twice your size." Richard groaned out as he popped his spine back into place. The woman smirked and said "I'm not your average _sheila_ Mr. Mundy. I'm a special agent sent here from a benefactor who has a great interest in your skills."

Richard scoffed and finally decided sitting down on the ground was a better idea than standing up in his current condition. "Since when have the _Americans_ ever been interested in me?"

"Word has traveled the globe Mr. Mundy," The woman continued as she stared down at Richard. "You're quite famous _Dick_. Never missing a shot, never getting caught off guard and killing every target. It was once said you traveled the entire Eastern Hemisphere to kill one target that got away on one of your missions."

Richard sneered as he rubbed his sore shoulder, "The weasel had it comin'. Besides that he just rubbed me the wrong way."

"Hm. Well it seems _a lot _of people rub you the wrong way Mr. Mundy." The woman acknowledged as she blew more smoke into the cold desert air. The orange glow of the cigarette illuminated her eyes and a white mist condensed around her giving her the appearance more akin to that of ghost. Richard shrugged and rested his wrists on his kneecaps. "People generally annoy me. I prefer to be alone," he answered honestly. The woman's expression did not change at his revelation and instead she asked him, "Would you like to join our team Dick?"

Richard looked up at her slightly dumbstruck. Did he not just reveal he worked better as a lone wolf? Let's face it Richard Mundy was anything _but_ a people's person and the aspect of working on a team did not appeal to him at all. The woman continued nevertheless and added, "I understand where you are coming from Mr. Mundy. As a sniper you rather not be associated with any distractions as you must remained focused solely on your target. Even though you will be on this team I assure you we make no plans of changing your work flow."

"So you want me to be the support of your merry band of mercenaries?" Richard asked. The woman smiled and closed her eyes in thought as she took another drag. When she opened her eyes they shone violet and as she spoke smoke poured from her painted lips, "I know why you've been on edge lately _Richard_. You're a predator who of late has not found sufficient prey in the outback. Wouldn't you like the chance of bigger game Mr. Mundy? The chance to _truly_ hunt, to feel the thrill of any great bushman?" The words rang sweet and true in Richard's ears and he was tempted by her offer. However, if this was a ruse Richard was not some dumb nance to be lied to.

"Temptin' as your offer may be, I've killed plenty of high profile people miss, uh-"

"Announcer."

"Eh?"

"You can refer to me as the Announcer." The woman answered evenly. Richard shrugged and continued. "Fwine whateva. I've killed plenty of big _game_ so to speak Announcer and I get paid huge bucks for it too. What makes your offer so different than any other clients'?"

The Announcer smiled and retorted, "Yes you may have killed plenty of high profile people but have you ever had the satisfaction of killing someone your level?"

Richard seemed puzzled and responded, "You mean an assassin?"

"Yes Richard an assassin."

Richard thought hard for a moment; no he had never killed another mercenary. It seemed odd now that he thought about it but then again he's been so careful about covering his tracks he's never had to go head on with any of his supposed "killers" out for the bounty on his head. In fact he was not even sure if he even held a bounty on his head, despite his international fame as a trained killer. The woman seemed to read his mind and stated, "James Bonds was a fictional movie star Mr. Mundy. You've been very careful to cover your tracks so luckily no one has ever sought you out like our dear friend Mr. Bond. Before you ponder more on this thought I'm not any Goldeye character either."

The woman flicked the bud of her cigarette into the sand as she blew the last of the nicotine dust into the air. Richard stared at her and asked slowly, "Why are you really here?"

"To recruit you as I've said Mr. Mundy." For some reason the rational part of Richard's brain believed her. He sighed and stood up wearily, still mindful of his back. He suddenly felt tired but he stood his full height of six foot and he stalked over to the woman. The woman made no movement to defend herself, there was no need to. He towered over her as he looked down at her face as she stared expectedly back at him. He gave a soft smile and asked, "The game any good out there?"

She smirked and responded, "_The best_."

Richard smiled and retrieved his hat, forgotten on the ground. He cocked it on his head and ground out, "_Well sheila, guess you've found yourself a snipa."_


End file.
